Princess CatSkin
by Jacquleine Schaeffer
Summary: *Finished, finally*! Princess Mary Isabelle Elise runs away from her father to become cat-skin, a simple kitchen-girl. She meets Prince William, stubborn and boyish, and things change from there...
1. Prolouge and a Sinful Proposal

Hello all! This is the author of King Lack-Beard speaking. I promised you Cat-Skin, you get Cat-skin! I really hope you like it! I'm just really bored and I have a long weekend, so I started to write this new story early! Enjoy!  
  
  
  
Queen Arlia and King Richard ruled the kingdom of Ginovia in the province of Manton. The queen was the most beautiful queen (and also one of the proudest) by far. She spent hours in front of the mirror combing her hair. She had shining, strawberry blonde golden hair that was curly and thick, smooth creamy skin and thoughtful green eyes. Her husband loved her immensely; he adored her beyond words. He often said that he couldn't use the words 'I love you' because they were not expressive enough.  
  
So this happy couple lived for quite some time, ruling peacefully over their kingdom. It was a time of prosperity; crops were plentiful and bellies full. No one in all of Ginovia was wanting of anything. King Richard and Queen Arlia were happy in all areas but one. They couldn't seem to produce a child. The queen blamed herself, but Richard wouldn't stand for it. He shifted all of the blame onto his tired shoulders.  
  
They thought all was lost until one day Arlia found she was pregnant! There was celebration throughout the land. A great feast was held; the people rejoiced, and much money was spent.  
  
So eventually the queen was in the last month of her pregnancy. She needed help getting around, so servants carried her everywhere.  
  
Then the night came. The queen's water broke. She was rushed to her bedroom and the midwife was called in. Richard was shooed out of the room, and spent hours pacing in front of the closed doors while moans of pain were heard from inside.  
  
Just when he thought he might go mad waiting, a baby's cries were heard, and the midwife opened the door. She shook her head sadly.  
  
"She wants to talk to you," she said. The king, worried sick, came into the room. His wife was lying on the bed. She was sweaty and looked very tired. In her arms she held a little baby, crying.  
  
"It's a girl," she managed to sigh. "I named her Mary Isabelle Elise, but just call her Isabelle."  
  
"She's beautiful," said the king, kissing the baby's foot.  
  
"I have to talk to you, husband, come closer," she whispered. Her husband leaned in. "Husband, this birth was very hard on me. I…I think that I am going to…die."  
  
"No!" Richard cried. "No, you'll be fine!"  
  
"Shh, Richard, shh. Please don't cry, it only makes this harder." Her voice became more strained, more forced. "Husband, you must promise me something."  
  
"What is it, my love, I'll promise anything. Anything! Just tell me."  
  
"Richard," she sighed. "Promise me you will never marry another woman, unless she is as beautiful as I am, and has as golden hair as I do."  
  
"I promise. I promise," Richard sobbed. Arlia put her hand on his face.  
  
"I love you," she whispered. "Take care of Isabelle for me." And then her hand slid off his face, she closed her eyes and died. Richard buried his head in her sheets, sobbing uncontrollably.  
  
"Don't leave me!" he bawled. "Arlia!"  
  
After sobbing for a few minutes, he took the small baby in his arms and carried it out of the room. He went onto the balcony, where many citizens were gathered below, excitedly awaiting the news of Queen Arlia's baby. He stood on the balcony, and the people cheered.  
  
"People of Ginovia," he said sadly, trying to control his tears. "Just a few minutes ago, my wife gave birth to this baby, Princess Mary Isabelle Elise, and died in the process."  
  
A hush fell over the crowd. Everyone was devastated to find out their fair Queen Arlia was dead.  
  
Years passed. The time of prosperity ended; the kingdom fell into despair. The crops failed, money was lost, people starved. And King Richard shut himself up in his library for the next seventeen years, a very depressed man. He would come out occasionally to eat or address court, but other than that he spent all of his time locked up. The only few he would let in were his advisors, and all they talked of was trying to get the king to marry again. However, he remained obdurate on this subject. He wouldn't marry anyone unless she was as beautiful and as golden-haired as his late wife. Alas, no girl so beautiful or golden could be found.  
  
His daughter, Isabelle, barely even knew him. After a while she lost her curiosity and just lived her life without her father. She grew to be a very beautiful girl, the exact image of her dead mother. She was a wise and practical girl, with a good head on her shoulders and a clever tongue in her mouth. She had had many suitors, but refused them, deciding at an early age to marry for love.  
  
So on her eighteenth birthday, the usual feast was held. Jesters danced about, minstrels sang, and her father made one of his rare appearances. She greeted him happily, but he just looked at her and commented on how she looked exactly like her mother.  
  
She had been told that before. Many of the older servants had told of how she looked like her mother, from her strawberry blonde hair to her clear green eyes.  
  
Soon the feasting commenced, and the king stood and held up his hand for silence.  
  
"I would like to congratulate my daughter on her eighteenth birthday."  
  
"Thank you Father," she said.  
  
"And now I would like to make an announcement. My advisors have urged me to marry again. However, I promised my wife on her deathbed that I wouldn't marry unless my wife be as beautiful and with as golden hair as she had. Alas, we have searched the world for such a girl, but to no avail. Even if she was as beautiful as my late wife, she would not have the golden hair she did. So I have come to a decision. I shall have to marry my daughter, Mary Isabelle Elise, as she looks the exact image of my dead wife."  
  
A shocked hush fell over the party.  
  
"Marry you?" Isabelle shrieked. "But…but you're my FATHER!"  
  
"I know, but I have to--"  
  
"I won't do it!" she screamed, pushing back her chair, and she tore out of the room.  
  
"Your Majesty," a courtier piped up, "Heaven forbid that a father marry his daughter. Out of so great a sin no good can come."  
  
The king just sighed and sat back down. 


	2. Stalling Backfires and Old Magic gifts

So many *wonderful* reviewers! Thirteen in four days! Wow!  
  
Anjali Sahra- Yep. Taboo is right. I guess the subject of fathers marrying their daughters has always been taboo.  
  
Jenny the Chica- Nice review! So wonderfully long! Boy, have you got your Robin McKinley down! Hee hee. Thanks for the review on Lack-Beard.  
  
Mischief Mayhem, and Chaos- Wrong is right! Ha, ha that didn't sound quite right.  
  
Firebird- I don't quite get your meaning. I don't really get what you're saying. Thanks for the review anyway.  
  
Fufie- What, you think Isabelle is going to marry her dad?! What do you think I am? Of course she's running away!  
  
Spirit-Savior- Thanks, I pride myself on character descriptions. I work hard on that seeing as how if I don't try I suck at it.  
  
To Mackie, I would like to make it clear that this is not my story, I do not own any part of it, it is a Brothers Grimm story and not mine at all. Thanks to that other person who defended me.  
  
Star*- Glad you like it.  
  
Rampant- The story I am using is actually called Catskin, but I have heard it called Furball, Deerskin, The Fur-Bride, and lots of others. I guess it just varies from book to book.  
  
Shrouded Spirit- Glad you like it too.  
  
Nina- Of COURSE the father is demented!!!  
  
Ok, whew that was a lot…now without further ado, on to chapter 2. (That rhymes!)  
  
  
  
"I won't do it!" Isabelle shrieked into her bed-pillows, thrashing blindly at any servant who tried to come near her, even her most trusted and loyal servant, Angie.  
  
"Isabelle, Isabelle! Listen to me!" cried Angie, grabbing Isabelle by the shoulders, turning her over and shaking her vigorously. "You have never acted like this before. Now is no time to cry; it doesn't help a thing!"  
  
"Well then what am I to do?" she wailed, tears streaming down her crimson cheeks.  
  
"I don't know!" said Angie. "Ye must think of something, however! Anything! Fake illness, run away, pretend to die!"  
  
"Are you sure that would work? Everywhere I go people recognize me."  
  
"Well, how about this? Ye could give yer father impossible tasks to do!" said Angie. "And ye will only marry him if he does these tasks."  
  
Isabelle stopped crying for a moment, breathing rapidly and wiping away tears. "Like what?"  
  
"Oh, like how about this: Tell him ye will only marry him if he makes ye three dresses: One as golden as the sun, one as silver as the moon, and one as dazzling as the stars."  
  
"Well, a bit unorthodox, I'll admit, but it might work," sighed Isabelle. "But that's not that hard to do. How about this as well? I must have a mantle of a thousand different kinds of furs put together, to which every beast in the kingdom must give a part of his skin!"  
  
"Good thinking, child. Maybe he'll get these stupid notions of marrying ye out of his head once ye tell him to do those tasks."  
  
So Isabelle left her room, and addressed the king and court.  
  
"I have made my decision," Isabelle said regally to all of the subjects, "I will only marry my father if I am given three dresses: One as golden as the sun, one as silver as the moon, and a third as dazzling as the stars. Besides this, I must have a mantle of a thousand different kinds of furs put together, to which every beast in the kingdom must give a part of his skin!"  
  
The court whispered to each other, "Clever girl! That is a fine way to get her father's stupid whims out of his head."  
  
The king stood. "I will do it!"  
  
Silence fell. A courtier rose tentatively.  
  
"But Sire, how can you possibly do that? There are more creatures in this kingdom than stars in the sky, and you cannot possibly make dresses as golden as the sun, as silver as the moon, and as dazzling as the stars. It's not possible."  
  
"I will try!" the king roared, "I must try, or I will never have a wife!"  
  
"King Richard, there are many beautiful maidens in the land, why don't you choose one of them for your bride?"  
  
"No," he replied, "it's either my daughter or no one."  
  
Murmurs rose throughout the entire court as Isabelle paled.  
  
"Very well, Father," she said, lips stretched out in a thin white line. "You do those tasks for me and I shall wed you."  
  
The murmurs continued, people looked at each other in shock and horror. Incest! No good could come of it. But the court knew Isabelle well, and had a feeling that she had another plan up her sleeve.  
  
***  
  
"Angie, what will I do?" Isabelle moaned. "What if Father completes the tasks? He already has hunters out in the woods, and the most skillful workmen in the kingdom weaving three dresses."  
  
"Dear Isabelle, I am sure ye won't have to marry yer father!" Angie said comfortingly, giving Isabelle a warm hug. She had been the closest to a mother figure Isabelle had ever had, starting with bedtime stories in the crib. "We will think of something! I am sure it will all turn out okay. These kinds of things always do."  
  
"You think?" Isabelle seemed quickly convinced by Angie's warm words.  
  
"I know," she replied. "Oh, that reminds me…" she said, getting up, "I have my birthday gifts for ye."  
  
"Oh, Angie, really, you didn't have to."  
  
"I insist. I have been saving these for a long time." She dug through an old wooden box, a trinket box that was beaten up and faded. It had worn- down carvings on it and a little gold clasp discolored with age. "Here we go!" she said cheerfully, pulling up a tarnished golden ring, necklace, and brooch. "They were my mother's."  
  
"Angie, you didn't--"  
  
"And since I have no daughter of my own to pass these on to, and you're the closest thing I've ever had, I give them to you."  
  
"Well, thank you Angie." She fingered the jewelry, trying to catch the light on the ring.  
  
"And they aren't just any old pieces of jewelry, they're magic."  
  
"Magic?"  
  
"Yes. My great-great grandmother was an enchantress. I know it seems kind of silly to a princess like you, but these pieces of jewelry are enchanted so that if ye put them in any dish of food they will make that food taste like the most delicious thing on earth. Just remember to take them out before ye serve the food."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yes, it's very useful for kitchen-maids like myself."  
  
"And does it work?"  
  
"Why do ye think I'm still here?" She laughed. "I know a princess like you probably won't need them; but ye never know."  
  
  
  
That was chapter 2!!! I know the whole jewelry thing is kind of cheesy, but that is important to the story and it comes back later! (Hint hint)!!! 


	3. Running Away

Sorry it took so long for me to get this chap out! Puter problems!  
  
Francesca- Yuck is right!  
  
Katie- Uh…it's the thought that counts. We have to get together over vacation!  
  
Star*- YOUR dad is demented too? Ha just kidding.  
  
Ellie- Glad you like it  
  
Nina- Isabelle is pretty clever. This fairy tale is relatively famous, but I'm not surprised that you haven't heard of it.  
  
Fairy Spirite- Interesting review. Don't worry, I promise Isabelle won't be marrying her dad!  
  
LifesLilParadox- In my Grimm book it does talk about how she was going to marry her dad. I didn't make that up; I'm not that sick-minded. Glad you liked Lack-Beard.  
  
Jenny the Chica- I do enjoy reading your reviews! They always are the *nicest!* Thanks!  
  
Firebird- Actually, in the first chap it said that they looked all over the world but couldn't find a more beautiful girl. But still, I mean, marrying your daughter is gross. And the King is stupid anyway. And the rings will be used later, but I suppose it's not going to be that funny.  
  
Fufie- Well, your logic is interesting. "Maybe the girl DOES end up marrying her dad, and is only comforted by the fact that she has a DELICIOUS dinner every night…" Well, that COULD be true, but it's not. And I have never even heard of the game man on rocks, man on ground. Tell me how you play, though, it sounds fun!  
  
Mischief Mayhem and Chaos- I LOVE your Cinderella story! You have to add more soon! Anywhoo, this is fairytale stuff, and they do that golden sun stuff all the time.  
  
Chava- No wonder your friends call you the grammar Nazi! Well, if it really bugs you, you may e-mail it to me after you edit it. This chapter is (hopefully) grammar error free in your honor. (At least I'll TRY to make it grammar error free…and this part doesn't count.)  
  
Shrouded Spirit- Psycho is right!  
  
Ok, FINALLY on to a grammar error free chapter 3! (THAT RHYMES AGAIN! Maybe I should do it all the time.)  
  
  
  
The king, seated at his gilded throne, held up a hand for silence. Isabelle sat quietly, fearing the reason that her father had called for this feast. The courtiers quieted down, and he stood up.  
  
"Perhaps some know why I am holding this feast." He paused, glancing at Isabelle quickly. She sighed slowly, gritting her teeth as she did so. "My daughter has set very high standards for me, only accepting me if I complete certain tasks for her.  
  
"She has asked me to make three dresses: One as golden as the sun, one as silver as the moon, and a third as dazzling as the stars. Apart from this she has asked me to make a mantle of a thousand different furs, to which every creature in the kingdom must give a piece of his skin. Now, not any man could complete these tasks. But I am pleased to say that I have!" He stopped, and clapped his hands. Several men came out, carrying a beautiful gown that was as golden as the sun, if not more. "A dress as golden as the sun," the king said formally, and clapped his hands again. This time three servants came in carrying a gorgeous silver dress. "A dress as silver as the moon," he said, and clapped his hands once again. This time, three servants carried in a dazzling gown, which surpassed the other two gowns in beauty and brightness. "And one as dazzling as the stars."  
  
The court murmured in astonishment. How could it have been done? These gowns were as beautiful as one could imagine.  
  
But it wasn't over. The king once again clapped his hands, and five hunters came in carrying a huge fur mantle. There were thousands of different furs sewn together. Black, brown, white, red, gold, and orange fur made it the most remarkable fur cloak one could ever see.  
  
"Now that I have completed the tasks my daughter has bestowed upon me, I humbly ask for her hand." He then held out his hand to Isabelle.  
  
She paled, stared at his hand for a moment, and then pushed back her chair so violently that it fell with a terrific clatter. She stormed out of the room, a cloud of fury hanging about her. As she left the room and fumed down a dark corridor to her room, hot tears of anger flowed down her cheeks.  
  
How could this happen to me? she thought angrily. How could he make those gorgeous dresses and that mantle, those tasks were next to impossible!  
  
She entered her room and slammed the door as hard as she could behind her. She leaned against the closed door for a moment, looked about the room and then grabbed a bag.  
  
Before she knew what she was doing, she had sneaked down into the kitchen and grabbed some bread and cheese. She had decided the only options left were to marry her own father or run away. Of course, she chose running away. She ran back to her room and grabbed her oldest, and most tattered and worn out dress (which wasn't very tattered at all!), and made sure she wasn't forgetting anything. She would sell the dress on the road; possibly exchange it with some peasant for a different dress suited for traveling.  
  
She looked about her room one more time; even though her fleeing was for the best, she was still going to miss her home. She ran her hand lovingly over the bed, patted her bedside table, and waved goodbye to her closet full of expensive gowns. She blew out the candle on her table, and turned to be faced with a very stern looking Angie.  
  
"So," she said, "you're running away."  
  
"Aye," replied Isabelle, "I am." She feared Angie wouldn't allow her to go.  
  
"Well…" paused Angie. "Do ye have bread and cheese enough?"  
  
"That I do," Isabelle responded.  
  
"And a warm cloak?"  
  
"Yes, Angie."  
  
"And the jewelry I gave ye?"  
  
"No…" Isabelle stopped. "Do you think I should take it with me?"  
  
"But of course!" Angie riposted, shocked. "I'll get it for ye. You should have yer dresses and that fur cloak too."  
  
"But those are too heavy--"  
  
"Nah, they aren't. Anywhoo, I am an enchantress, ye know, I can make those dresses fit into a nut-shell."  
  
"You didn't tell me--"  
  
"That I was an enchantress? Of course not, but I am…" She turned, and said to Isabelle as she walked off, "I'll go get yer dresses and the jewelry and fur cloak."  
  
She walked off, leaving Isabelle to stand in the dark corridor and wait for her.  
  
***  
  
When Angie returned, she handed Isabelle the jewelry.  
  
"Keep it in a safe place," she said. "Ye never know when it might come in handy." She also handed her a nut-shell. "It holds yer fine dresses," Angie said, pressing the small, round object into her hand. "Just pull one out when ye need it. It can go back in just as easy. Ye never know when those dresses might come in handy either." And lastly, Angie handed her the fur mantle. "It will keep ye warm."  
  
She pulled the cloak around Isabelle's shoulders, and kissed her on the forehead.  
  
"May yer journey to wherever ye go be safe and uneventful," Angie sniffled. "Ye were like the daughter I never had. I hope ye stay safe, dear."  
  
A single tear ran down the kindly old woman's face as she lead a sobbing Isabelle through the back door. Angie watched sadly as Isabelle ran off into the night. 


	4. Catskin

I'm Sorry it took so long to crank out this chapter. I kind of ran dry for a while and couldn't write for crap. Plus, I was violently ill for about one week. When I say "violently ill" I mean pink eye, strep throat, a really awful and gross nasal infection, and a really bad ear infection as well. Maybe the ear thing goes with the nasal thing, but I don't care, really. I can't answer your reviews for this week, which I am sorry to say, but I promise that I'll review every single one next chapter, even if it takes me three pages. (Which it probably will.)  
  
Ok, it's time for a good-luck rhyme! Um, Furthermore, it's chapter four! Hee hee.  
  
Isabelle ran off into the dark, cold forest, hugging the fur mantle to her. She was running blindly, not knowing where she was going, and the only thought that was in her mind was to get as far away from the castle as possible before her father discovered her absence and sent hunters out after her.  
  
She was growing tired. Her breaths became shallower, and her cheeks were getting flushed. She ripped off the cloak despite the howling wind. Her legs began to ache, and her mind was telling her to rest. But she plodded on, putting one foot in front of another.  
  
Finally, after she felt like she had been trudging through the woods for what seemed like eternity, she saw the sun peek shyly over the horizon. It was daybreak, and Isabelle knew that was her cue to rest. Half dead from exhaustion, she pulled her mantle over her, climbed a tree and curled up in it. The moment she was settled she shifted right into a deep and dreamless sleep, not even moving. Nothing could disturb her; if the world was coming to an end she might have just slept right through it.  
  
***  
  
However, she had to wake sometime. And later that day was the time. She was awoken by the sounds of voices below her.  
  
She suddenly panicked. Who could it be? Did they see her? Were they her father's hunters? Millions of dreadful thoughts raced through her head in a matter of seconds. She thought of hundreds of ways to respond to the situation, but ended up settling on the sensible decision of staying put, not saying anything, and moving as little as possible. She listened in on the voices.  
  
"I haven't the faintest idea what it is," one voice, obviously male, said confusedly. "I've never seen anything like it."  
  
"Do you suppose it's alive?" asked another voice. "I think it's breathing."  
  
Isabelle held as still as ever.  
  
"Why don't we see?" the first voice said. "John, poke it with your gun."  
  
Isabelle did not want to be poked by anything, especially a gun. She panicked once more. Maybe she could run. No, she immediately thought, they might shoot me. She could stay still. Maybe if she didn't move they might move on and forget about her.  
  
No such luck. She felt the sharp jab of the gun, so hard she started to lose her balance. Teetering, she tried to regain her balance but it was of no avail. She fell to the cold, hard ground and yelped, right in front of the hunters.  
  
"What do you suppose it is, John?" asked one of the two men, leaning in cautiously, causing Isabelle to recoil.  
  
"No idea, Charles." Replied John, eying Isabelle. "It looks like a girl."  
  
"Hello?" asked the other man, rather loud and slowly. "Can you understand me?"  
  
"Of course I can, you bloke, I'm not deaf." She snapped, getting up. Apparently, this quite surprised the two men, for it was their turn to recoil.  
  
"Y-you can talk?" stuttered John, in shock.  
  
"Amazing, isn't it?"  
  
"Where did you get a cloak like that?"  
  
"What, this old thing?" she paused, quickly thinking up a gut-wrenching story. "It was the only thing my parents left me before they…they…died." she managed to squeeze out a tear. "They died right after I was born, and I had to sell all of our possesions to live. This is all I have left in the world." She held up the cloak, covered with bits of leaves from her fall.  
  
"Poor girl." Clucked Charles, shaking his head. "You look hungry." In fact, Isabelle really was. She put on her most pathetic face and nodded her head. "How would you like a job working in the kitchens of King Robert's castle?"  
  
Isabelle thought. King Robert. She must be in the Kingdom of Caputo, also in the province of Manton as with her own father's kingdom. She had run about thirty miles, she thought surprisingly. But she was safe. King Robert and her father weren't exactly best friends.  
  
"Caputo." She quietly repeated to herself.  
  
"What was that?" asked John.  
  
"Oh, nothing." she said in a phony wavering voice. "Yes, I would be very grateful if I could have a job in your kitchens. I could never ask for more."  
  
"Very well then," Charles smiled benevolently, "Follow us."  
  
Quietly, she let them lead her out of the woods.  
  
"You must be very tired." John said. "You can have a room at the castle."  
  
"A room?" she said, trying to sound in disbelief. "I've only stayed in a room once in my whole life. It was like heaven." She congratulated herself on her convincingness; she was almost in real disbelief.  
  
"Then I am sure you'll like it here." Charles said almost father-like. "By the way, what's your name, dear?"  
  
"Cat-skin." She said after a moment. "Cat-skin." 


	5. A nasty cook and a notebook

Rrrr. Life lately has not been good. How long has it been since I updated? At least three weeks. I've just been very busy—plus I got grounded for a week for bad grades on my mid trimester report. Thanks to anyone who reviewed, I am so glad you did. They really get me going. To be honest, I didn't even go on fan fiction until last night! So I am glad to see that at least I got some new reviews. I guess I should just get on to chapter 5. Thanks for reviewing again, I'll put in mentions in the next chapter. Now for another rhyme…  
  
I like sour cream and chives, it's now chapter five! Yay!  
  
After a brief tour of the castle, Isabelle was led to a tiny, sparsely decorated room in King Robert's castle. It was about ten by ten paces, with a dirt floor, a small straw cot in one corner, and some grungy curtains hanging in front of a glassless window.  
  
"It's…it's wonderful!" Isabelle cried, tears almost coming to her eyes.  
  
"I am glad you like it." Said John in a father-like tone, putting his hand in a friendly way on her shoulder. "Would you like to see the kitchen?"  
  
"Oh, yes!" Isabelle shouted.  
  
John led her down a dark hall. As they went, he showed her some of the castle's artifacts.  
  
"Where is the King?" Isabelle asked as John pointed out a suit of armor.  
  
"Oh, he's on a mercy mission. Feeing the poor and clothing the naked."  
  
Isabelle sighed As she was led into the kitchen. It was sweaty smelling, and completely dark save the fire blazing in one corner. A goose spun over the spit and Isabelle's mouth watered at the sight of it.  
  
"This is Eliza, the head cook." John introduced Isabelle to the woman, who was stirring an enormous pot filled with some type of stew.  
  
"Pleasure." Eliza muttered, obviously not caring. Isabelle looked her over. For a cook, she was quite a thin woman, with a pinched, sour face and long, bony hands. Her dark, dark hair was pulled back sloppily under a greasy rag, and her face was red from standing in front of the fire too long.  
  
"Hello. I am Cat-skin." Isabelle said shyly.  
  
"You may have some food if you like." John said. "Eliza, can we have a loaf of bread for this poor girl?"  
  
Eliza grunted, implying yes, so John took a warm loaf, which he handed to Isabelle. She took it with a watering mouth, and hungrily tore into it. John just watched her, shaking his head in pity. When he finished, John continued talking.  
  
"I must go now, girl, but I'm sure Eliza can show you your job in the kitchen."  
  
"What do I do?"  
  
"Eliza will tell you!" John yelled as he walked out of the door. Isabelle turned to Eliza.  
  
"What do I do?"  
  
After a few minutes, in which Isabelle stood uncomfortably, shifting from one foot to the other and staring at the floor while waiting for Eliza's answer, the cook stirred the pot. Once she seemed satisfied, she put the spoon carefully down and looked at Isabelle with her hands on her hips.  
  
"I have no need for another scullery-maid." She said in a tight, no- nonsense voice. "The only reason I have decided to keep you is that you look very pathetic and I can't help but pity you. A little." She stressed the last part. "So I shall show you what to do."  
  
She led Isabelle around the kitchen, showing her her jobs—cleaning the pots at the end of the day, sweeping the floor, and occasionally fixing the Prince's dinner if Eliza got to leave work early. Isabelle, playing her part, nodded eagerly as the cook showed her each job.  
  
Eliza made it clear that although she might have pitied Isabelle (A little), she still thought she was scum to be looked down upon. She never gave the girl a civil word, and didn't even say goodbye when it was time for her to leave.  
  
"Finish the floor." Eliza said as she pulled on her coat, "And you can have the rest of the meat that is left."  
  
Isabelle made a face to Eliza's back as she left. Just like I used to when Angie got angry with me, Isabelle thought sadly. She finished the floor and took the meat back to her room.  
  
*~~*  
  
Isabelle was walking home when she had bumped into a servant.  
  
"Would you like something?"  
  
"What?" Isabelle asked, surprised the woman spoke to her.  
  
"I said, would you like something?" The woman smiled good-naturedly, her face round and beaming.  
  
"O—ok."  
  
"It's a notebook. A diary of sorts. I can't use it," said the jolly looking woman, handing over a leather bound notebook. "Can't write. But maybe you can use it, dear heart. You could trade it for some food and get some meat on those bones."  
  
Isabelle felt as if she knew the lady, even though she didn't even know her name. The pages in the notebook were creamy white and empty, and the cover was think, brown leather. Even though there had many books like that where Isabelle had lived, she loved this one and felt it special. She had found a quill and started to write once she had gotten to her room.  
  
King Robert's castle is just like Father's, she wrote. All of the same faceless tapestries and dull suits of armor. The servants walk about lifelessly, and the food is just the same as well—rich and fatty meats, warm buttery bread, and vegetables galore. Just like father's castle. The people starve outside while the king feasts. And then he acts like a martyr just because he gave a poor man a piece of hard bread. I suppose I must stop writing before I get any angrier. But he is just like Father! If they would stop the feud they were having they would realize they are too much alike. I must end now, for if I continue and someone finds this little book I will surely be beheaded for traitorous acts!  
  
*~~*  
  
"Get up! Get yourself up!"  
  
Isabelle's wonderful dream was interrupted by a jarring, hard voice. She opened her eyes to see Eliza standing over her, hands on hips.  
  
"What do you think you are, royalty? Get up! We have a lot of work today!"  
  
"What? What work?" Isabelle asked groggily.  
  
"Imbecile! It's the Prince's nineteenth birthday today! Get up! Get up! We have a lot of work to do!"  
  
"All right, all right, I am getting up!" Isabelle growled, shooting out of her bed and pulling on her fur cloak.  
  
"Good then. I will see you in the kitchen in five minutes." Eliza snapped, and left the room.  
  
"I will see you in the kitchen in five minutes." Isabelle mimicked, checking her face to make sure it was dirty enough before she left the room. 


	6. Just a little while

This chapter is rather short, and I know some of you will be displeased with that fact. But I promise the next one will be super long to make up for it, and it will come out very soon. Promise. Now on to reviews…  
  
Impluse_k9-Most people have never heard of Cat-Skin. It is only semi well known. Some other names are furball and, well, other names.  
  
FairySprite-I am glad to see you have figured out there is a "princling".  
  
MysticalDreams-A story from China? You said the dresses were different. How so? I'd like to know! (Another rhyme!)  
  
Also thanks to Mischief Mayhem and Chaos, Stuntwoman, Shrouded Spirit, MiniMichelle2, and OYC_bambi.  
  
Ok…I make picture frames with dry old sticks, it is now time for chapter six! *swish!*  
  
"Blast!" cried Isabelle, after dropping a hot loaf of bread form the oven. "That's the second this morning!" She looked around quickly and the placed it on the table, making sure no one saw it fall.  
  
A few notes of lilting music floated down the corridor into the kitchen and hit Isabelle with a homesick pang. I miss home, she thought, just a bit. The musical entertainment is starting to practice. That means the ball for the Prince will be starting soon. Oh, how I miss balls at home!  
  
She then scolded herself for missing her home. Why should she miss a crazy father and boring social gatherings? Oh, but she was even starting to miss the social gatherings. Maybe I could go up and watch for just a little while, she thought, then feeling guilty for missing such useless royal events.  
  
She continued with her work. After an hour or so, her sensitive ears could tell the ball was starting. The music was playing perfectly and softly. She could hear voices, and a man announcing the guests as they came in.  
  
"Lady Jane Pittman of Aragon."  
  
"Sir John Hugo of Cereliton."  
  
The voice seemed so familiar to Isabelle, like a worn security blanket.  
  
Just a few minutes. She finished taking more loaves of bread out of the oven, an then when she was sure Eliza was nowhere to be seen she glanced around and headed for the door. She started for the stairs when Eliza jumped out of nowhere. Isabelle wondered if she stood in the shadows and jumped out like a loony every time a servant went to get a breath of fresh air.  
  
"Going somewhere, cat-skin?" She said this with disgust and disdain dripping from every syllable.  
  
"I—I, if you please, ma'am, I just…"  
  
"You just what?"  
  
"I—I…"  
  
"You what?"  
  
"I just wanted to see the festivities."  
  
"You wanted to see the festivities." She repeated, almost as if she was correcting Isabelle.  
  
"Y—yes…"  
  
"Why did you not ask me?"  
  
"I…I was going to…"  
  
"Liar." She said. "You were going to watch without me."  
  
"No…"  
  
"Yes you were."  
  
After what seemed like ten years of thick silence, Isabelle finally timidly asked, "So, may I go?"  
  
"Bake a few more loaves of bread, cook one more goose, wash the mantle and sweep the floors and stairs. After that you may go watch the party and do whatever you please. But make sure you are back by half past midnight. I am going home; and the prince must have his supper before he goes off into his royal bed. I want you to cook it."  
  
"What does he want?"  
  
"The same always—one bowl of soup and a slice of bread."  
  
"Ok."  
  
"That's clear then?"  
  
"Yes…uh, may I go?"  
  
"Yes, you may."  
  
Isabelle smiled, thanked Eliza and tore up the stairs in a burst of happiness.  
  
~**~  
  
Isabelle peeked past the door leading to the ballroom and watched the place longingly. How she missed the sweet music, the lovely dresses and the food! She felt very guilty for missing all of it, but she did. The king, queen and prince had not entered yet, as their thrones sat vacant at the head of the room.  
  
After a quarter of an hour of watching the festivities go on, a ear splitting fanfare was heard, and the voice announced,  
  
"Presenting King Robert and Queen Anna of Caputo, and their son, Prince William, who is celebrating his nineteenth birthday."  
  
Isabelle watched as the three enters. The King and Queen were typical royals, with a pasted-on smile and waving gently.  
  
But the prince, he was another story.  
  
Wearing an I-don't-care expression on his face, he was slouchy and obviously uncomfortable in his fancy clothes.  
  
Isabelle was quite surprised at the sight of the young man. She felt right then and there she wanted to meet him. You can't, she thought, look at you now, you're kitchen help. You'd be laughed out of the place if you went in there now.  
  
At that moment her thoughts went to the dresses back in her room. No, let go of this life, she thought, furiously cramming the thought back in her head. But if I don't use them, they will just go to waste. Why did I bring them anyway?  
  
"Ye never know when those dresses will come in handy…" Angie's comforting voice came back into Isabelle's head.  
  
Ok, so maybe a few minutes, Isabelle thought. I will just put on one of the dresses, go up for a few minutes, and then come back down.  
  
But of course, as fairy tales go, nothing is that simple. 


	7. The Prince

Hey all! It's an extra super long chapter to make up for the short one last time!  
  
"Lady Mary of Ginova." Isabelle whispered to the man at the door, using her first name. She was wearing her golden sun dress, with her strawberry blonde hair loose and cascading down her shoulders. The man announced her name, and she walked down the stairs. The guests at the ball seemed to stop dancing when her name was announced, for one because it was unfamiliar, and two, because she was from Ginovia, an enemy country.  
  
Once they looked up at her, her origin was immediately forgotten. Her beauty silenced the entire room, which seemed to freeze for about thirty seconds. The music stopped and the guests gaped at the mysterious woman before them. The King and Queen sat with their mouths wide open, and the only person that seemed to be unaffected in the whole room was Prince William, who was yawning on his throne.  
  
Isabelle was annoyed by the court's behavior. It was like this wherever she went. She sometimes wished she was plain, because that way people wouldn't stop and stare at her on the streets, and she wouldn't be judged by her beauty, but by who she was. She had yet to meet someone who didn't acknowledge her beauty and instead tried to find out what she was really like. Heck, her beauty was what caused everything. If she had been plainer, her father wouldn't have insisted on her marriage and she wouldn't have had to run away. She could be at home right now, reading with Angie…  
  
Isabelle walked down the stairs and through the large ballroom. The crowd parted for her as she went down to the King and Queen's thrones. When she got there she bowed before them.  
  
"Your majesty, King Robert and Queen Anna of Caputo, I have come from the Kingdom of Ginovia to escape the tyrannical King. I know our Kingdoms are enemies, but I beg of you that you do not banish me."  
  
The Queen spoke, standing as she did so. "No child, of course not! You may stay here as long as you like."  
  
"Yes, you may." The King chimed in. "Have you anywhere to stay?"  
  
"Why, yes, am staying in an Inn on the edge of town."  
  
"Oh, no, my dear! An inn? A young Lady like yourself is staying in an inn? Preposterous! I insist you stay with us."  
  
"No, it is quite all right."  
  
"But Lady Mary--"  
  
"I assure you, Your Majesty, that I am fine where I am and I appreciate your hospitality."  
  
"You are sure then?"  
  
"Quite."  
  
"Very well then. Lady Mary, I would like to introduce you to my son, Prince William."  
  
"Your Grace." Isabelle curtseyed deeply. The Prince did not reply, but made a stiff bow and grumbled something.  
  
"Music!" The King cried, and the lilting notes started up again.  
  
"Lady Mary," The Queen spoke, "Would you like to dance with my son?"  
  
William shot the Queen a shocked and angry look. She shot him back a do-as- you're-told-or-you'll-hear-it-from-me-later look.  
  
"If your Grace wishes to." Isabelle didn't want to dance with a grouchy prince.  
  
"No, then." He said, and turned towards the wall.  
  
"William!" The Queen cried sharply. Even though it was one word it said a million things. Don't make a scene. Do what you're told. Don't mess with me. That was rude. Why slight such a beautiful lady?  
  
"Fine." The Prince finally sighed, and turned towards her. He grabbed her hand awkwardly and led her onto the dance floor.  
  
A new song started and William started to lead her. She could hear him quietly counting to himself with each turn. He didn't seem very happy to dance with her, paying her as much indifference as he did everyone else.  
  
Isabelle had mixed feelings about his behavior. No one had treated her like everyone else. People had always had a high regard for her because of her looks. She felt slightly mad because of this, although she wouldn't admit it. She was displeased that he didn't notice her beauty. But at the same time she was strangely pleased that he didn't notice. That meant it didn't matter to him.  
  
"One, two, three…" William quietly counted.  
  
"Are you counting?" She asked, desperately trying to make conversation.  
  
"What? Oh, yes." He said, losing count and stepping on her toes. "Sorry, Lady…"  
  
"Mary. Lady Mary of Ginovia."  
  
"Ginovia. It sounds familiar. Is my father at war with that kingdom?" His voice was monotone and the conversation seemed forced.  
  
"I believe so. But shouldn't you know that?"  
  
"Ginovia, Fadago, Marne, they are all the same to me." He said sarcastically. "Men lose their lives to useless causes." Isabelle looked at him with pleasant surprise. "Oh, I am sorry, I didn't mean to…"  
  
"It's quite all right. I feel the same way."  
  
"You do?" A hint of curiosity slipped into his monotone voice.  
  
"Oh yes. They spend money on weaponry, clothing, food, and such other frivolous things, while the people outside the palace walls starve. And they ignore it."  
  
"My, my, you are quite outspoken for a lady." A glint came into his eye.  
  
"Have I offended you in some way?"  
  
"No, I am just surprised."  
  
Before they could say anymore, the dance ended. The couple's hands fell by their sides, and William led Isabelle off the dance floor. Isabelle looked at him with a warm smile, but the curiosity he had on the dance floor left as quickly as it came. He seemed just as cold and bored as when they started to dance, and with a cold bow, he excused himself. The queen, however, seemed to want to get to know Isabelle. She crept up to the girl from behind once William had left and the King had retired.  
  
"He is always like that." She said to Isabelle.  
  
"Always what?"  
  
"Impertinent. Cold. Rude."  
  
"Really."  
  
"Why, yes. But I saw you soften him up a bit on the dance floor, eh, Lady Mary?"  
  
"I have not the slightest idea of what you speak."  
  
The queen was slightly taken aback, but she sounded out a gay laugh after a moment.  
  
"Simply you must. My son has never spoken that many words together in his life as he did on the floor with you."  
  
"Your Majesty, I must say, we only spoke of such trivial topics as the weather."  
  
"Of course, my dear, of course." The Queen passed her, and as she did, gave her a wink and a sneaky smile. Isabelle rolled her eyes and left the ballroom. She felt she needed some fresh air.  
  
Once she was out in the garden, only then did she feel she could relax. The garden was a maze of bushes, neatly trimmed and manicured. Her shoes made a light slap as she walked on the sheet rock path that had an eerie sheen to it in the moonlight. She heard a small voice, someone alone. A man. She walked closer, attempting to locate the disembodied voice. It became louder, and Isabelle turned a corner to see Prince William, perched on a bench. He was talking to himself, muttering angrily about the ball.  
  
"All those people…really they don't like me…status seeking social climbers…nothing but money…insipid…mind-numbing…and mother…'Oh, dance with this girl!'…'Oh, this girl is lovely!'…giggling bunch of ninnies…all they want is money and title…"  
  
Isabelle watched him with fascination. He did not notice her, or at least was pretending not to. The way he spoke to himself, about the ball and such, she felt the exact same way. She felt as if she knew him from just listening to his tirade for two minutes. "…do I have real friend in this world? Do I truly? Or is everyone just nice to me because I'm a prince?…I'd rather be a beggar…I'd rather…"  
  
Isabelle, after listening to him talk to himself for several more minutes, decided it best to leave him alone. She turned to go, but must have made too much noise, because William stopped talking. And before she could run off, he turned and looked straight at her. 


	8. The talk in the Garden and the gold ring

Yes, I am finally back! I kind of had a writer's block, and there was the whole ff-site failure thing, but I'm now back! Thanks for the reviews, although on chapter seven they were rather scarce. Oh well, thanks to wingednight and girlprince17. This is great, it's chapter eight!  
  
Isabelle blushed with embarrassment at being discovered by Prince William.  
  
"I am so sorry." She said after an awkward pause, and turned to go.  
  
"Wait." The prince's voice wasn't curious, but it wasn't monotone either. It was rather pleading. Isabelle was surprised by this and turned back around.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Will you come sit by me?" he patted an empty seat on the bench next to him and Isabelle sat. "Were you spying on me, Lady Mary?"  
  
Isabelle colored. "No! Of course not!" he looked at her skeptically. "I came out into the garden to get away from the ball, and I got lost. I heard you talking and came to see who it was. Once I saw it was you I didn't want to disturb you, but what you were saying."  
  
"About that. Lady Mary, please do not tell anyone I said those things. If the King and Queen found out, I could be disowned! I kingdom could fall into my younger brother's hands." He paused. "Not that I want to rule, but I don't want my brother to. He is a tyrant, and I would hate to see what he would do to the kingdom."  
  
"No, no." Isabelle didn't want the Prince to think she was a spy out to blackmail him or anything. "What I was going to say was, I agree."  
  
"What?" Prince William was obviously not expecting that.  
  
"I agree completely. You see, where I came from I had many marriage proposals." Or just one awful one, she thought sadly. "But I always wondered, did these suitors really love me?" She shook her head. "Of course not. I was wealthy and, many say, blessed with beauty. They didn't love me, they wanted to marry me because I was beautiful and rich."  
  
"You say those things as if they were bad."  
  
"And they are!" she cried, perhaps too loudly. "Everywhere I go, all anyone sees is my beauty. It is not a blessing, it is a curse and I hate it. I wish someone would try to get to know me for who I am and not be concerned with my looks."  
  
"I know how you feel." William replied. "I sometimes feel so alone, as if I don't have a true friend in the world. And I don't. No one really likes me for who I am, they like me because I am rich and will be King someday."  
  
"Yes! I'd much rather be poor and plain. That way, if someone said they loved me, I would know they loved me for me and not for my looks and status."  
  
"You say it so well." William agreed. "Well, let me tell you, I like you."  
  
Isabelle laughed. "Thank you."  
  
"And not for your looks. I like you because you speak your mind and I feel comfortable around you."  
  
"And I like you because I can talk to you easily and you feel the same pain that I have. And I would still like you if you were poor and had no title at all"  
  
"Let's promise to be friends." William said, his eyes glowing and a bright smile on his face. Isabelle smiled back, for he reminded her of a young child with his eager face.  
  
"And true friends, not fake ones."  
  
"Yes! Do you promise?"  
  
"Yes." Isabelle smiled warmly and shook the Prince's hand. "It's nice to know I have a real friend."  
  
The prince laughed and looked at the castle timepiece.  
  
"Wow! The ball is probably over by now. We should be getting back. Mother will soon send out a search party and think I will have been killed."  
  
"What time is it?" Isabelle asked casually as they got up and headed towards the stone fortress.  
  
"Oh, it's almost half past midnight. Oh! Time for my late supper. Don't worry; you can join me if you like. Mother said you could stay in the castle, didn't she?"  
  
But Isabelle wasn't listening to William. "Did you say half past midnight?"  
  
He stopped and looked quizzically at her. "Yes. Why?"  
  
"Oh, god, I have to go!"  
  
"What? Where?"  
  
"I just have to go!" she gathered up her petticoats, slid past William and ran off, trying to ignore his cries of protest. Her shoes again made a light slapping sound on the stone walkways as she tried her best to find her way back to the castle.  
  
After a few dead ends, she found the exit and ran to the open doors of the castle hall. She quickly ran in, turning the heads of the few guests who were saying their goodbyes to the royals.  
  
"Lady Mary! Lady Mary, where are you going in such a hurry?" the queen cried desperately as Isabelle ran for the entrance.  
  
"Sorry your majesty, but I must leave!" she cried over her shoulder. She heard the Queen cry out once more before she managed to exit. The last words stuck in her head: "But you may stay here.I allowed you to!"  
  
But I already am staying here, Isabelle thought glumly as she ran around to the back of the building to change.  
  
*~~*  
  
Isabelle stood in front of the fire, watching the pot boil and simmer. The Prince's late supper. She wiped the sweat off of her forehead and stirred the pot.  
  
I have no idea what I'm doing, she thought angrily. Eliza gave me no instructions. This soup is probably going to taste terrible.  
  
She walked over to the table and cut several slices of bread. It was soft and warm. At least I didn't mess this up, Isabelle thought. She walked back over to the stew when Angie's loving voice popped up into her head. ".I know it seems kind of silly to a princess like you, but these pieces of jewelry are enchanted so that if ye put them in any dish of food they will make that food taste like the most delicious thing on earth."  
  
Smiling, Isabelle ran back to her meager room and pulled the gold ring out from her belongings.  
  
"This should solve my cooking dilemma." She muttered to herself and ran back to the kitchen. The soup was ready, so she spooned some into a pewter bowl, placed the ring in with it, and let it sit while the ring did its magic and made the soup delicious. "I wonder how long it takes to work." She said as she thought sadly of Angie.  
  
"Is this the Prince's Late supper?" a servant briskly walked in and pointed at the bowl of soup. Isabelle nodded, untying her apron and yawning. She was tired and ready for bed. She watched the servant leave and was about to sleepily leave the room when she abruptly woke up. The ring! She thought with surges of panic. It's still in the bowl!  
  
"Wait!" she cried desperately to the servant and ran up the stairs.  
  
But it was too late.  
  
She watched in utter horror as the bowl of soup was placed in front of the Prince. 


	9. The Prince Chokes on the Ring

Thanks to all who reviewed. This chapter is unusually long. Like, a page and a half longer than usual. Don't get used to it, though, I think it's just a fluke. And I know she has two more dresses and little jewelry things, but I won't drag them out as long as I am this one. Unless you want me to, of course.  
  
Special thanks to Jenny the Chica-Your reviews are the best! Thanks a lot for complimenting my chapter, I appreciate it!  
  
And ArwenStar914-I didn't know my story was funny! Thanks! Of course, now I will try to make it funny on purpose and it will suck! Hee hee.  
  
Also thanks to mystical Dreams and Kandi.  
  
Just in time, it's chapter nine! *Yay*!  
  
"I don't know what happened to her, I just don't know." The queen was seated in her dressing gown at the table talking to her son about Lady Mary.  
  
"Yes, I know mother, you have already said that many times." Grumbled William, head resting in hand as he glared at the wooden table, tracing a knot in the wood with his finger.  
  
"Well, I don't! First she insists on staying in some ratty old inn. Then she runs off when I insist she stay, and without a word. I don't even know WHICH inn she's staying in! How are we to find her?"  
  
"We could send out legions of armies to find her and drag her back here." William said, his common sarcasm returning.  
  
"It wouldn't work." Said the Queen crabbily, not noticing his sarcasm. She had raised the boy and even after nineteen years she had yet to detect it. Perhaps she had grown immune. "Well, we have to find a way to get her back here. The first girl William falls in love with, beautiful, noble and obviously rich-did you see her gown, dear, it was quite exquisite-and she runs off without so much as a goodbye."  
  
"Mo-om!" William whined, "I did NOT fall in love with her! She's a friend!"  
  
"Sure my dear, sure." The Queen said slyly, patting him on the shoulder. William sighed heavily and moved his shoulder so she couldn't reach it. "Well," said the King, finally speaking up, "We could always hold another ball. She probably would attend. After all, she is obviously nobility."  
  
The Queen rubbed her chin. "It just might work. Then when she comes back she'll fall in love with William, and then they can get married here in the castle chapel, and it will be very romantic, and then they can have seven girls and seven boys, who I can help name, and then--"  
  
"Mother." William cut in. "I would appreciate it if you didn't plan my life." A servant came in and dropped William's late supper in front of him. "Finally!" he snapped at the servant, obviously in a bad mood. "How did you get here, by way of Spain? Off you go, off you go!" he waved the man away and smelled his soup. "Ooo. It smells rather good tonight." He sniffed again. "Usually it smells average, but tonight it smells delicious."  
  
He picked up his spoon and slowly dipped it in the liquid, blowing on it a bit as to cool it off. He then stuck it in his mouth. "Mmm!" he slowly swallowed the spoonful and took another quickly. "This is the best soup I have ever tasted! Try some, mother." He shoved a spoonful in his mother's face.  
  
"For heaven's sake, William, don't do that! You could spill soup on my dress!" she angrily grabbed the spoonful of soup and daintily placed it in her mouth. "Oh, that is quite good."  
  
"I told you." William said haughtily. The Queen, for once, ignored his attitude, for she was too enthralled with the soup.  
  
"Let your father try it."  
  
So the King did, and nodded happily. He, too, agreed that that was the best soup he had ever tasted. They ordered two more spoons, and for the first time in royal history they lost their politeness and ate as fast as they could out of the same bowl. There was a little left in the bottom, and the King and Queen being full, offered it to William. He scooped it up and placed it in his mouth, and promptly choked on it.  
  
*~~*  
  
Isabelle watched as the King, Queen and Prince guzzled down the soup.  
  
Angie's tokens really do work, thought Isabelle, amazed. The three ate that soup as if there was no tomorrow.  
  
In about ten minutes they got to the bottom of the bowl. The King turned the last bit down, as did the Queen. They both pushed the bowl towards the Prince, who took the last spoonful. Isabelle knew it held the ring. He placed it in his mouth and suddenly was turning blue.  
  
"Is anything wrong, William?" asked the Queen as William turned from blue to purple.  
  
"I believe he is choking, m'dear." Said the King. He slapped William on the back with a huge thwack. William coughed, and a little metal object went flying across the room. It rolled on the floor right in front of Isabelle, who was hiding behind the door. After a few rolls it finally stopped.  
  
"What in heaven's name was that?" the Queen asked. She stood and walked to the door. Isabelle shrunk back quickly, terrified that she might be seen. The Queen picked up the object and looked it over. "It's a ring." She turned away and walked back to William. "You choked on a ring."  
  
"Was it in the soup?" the King asked.  
  
"Yes, it was. When I ate the spoonful I felt it in my mouth but I swallowed too quickly and it got caught in my throat." William was gasping for air.  
  
"A ring...in the soup?" the Queen was furious. "Servant!" she screamed, making everyone in the room jump. A servant scurried in, the same one who served the soup. "Did you know there was a ring in this soup?"  
  
"No, your majesty." Said the servant, looking at the floor.  
  
"Do you know who made this soup?"  
  
"Yes, your highness."  
  
Great, Isabelle thought glumly, now I'm in for it.  
  
"Good. I want you to bring them to me."  
  
"Yes, your majesty." The servant scuttled off towards the kitchen door, and Isabelle ran back down the stairs as fast as she could. Panicking, she tried to decide whether to escape of meet her fate.  
  
However, she didn't have enough time, for the servant came charging down the stairs.  
  
"They have it in for you now!" the man snapped. He was no longer the meek nameless servant he was in the hall, but now a snappy, rude, disdainful man.  
  
"What?" she asked innocently.  
  
"They found a ring in the soup you made! The Prince nigh well died choking on it! They demand your presence in the great hall!"  
  
"All right." She swallowed sadly and walked up the stairs, silently praying as she went that she wouldn't be executed. She opened the door to the hall slowly, and quietly entered, her head down and the picture of meekness.  
  
"Are you the firebrand who made this soup?" the queen demanded in a royal tone.  
  
"Y-yes ma'am."  
  
"Did you know there was a ring in the soup? My son nearly choked to death on it!" she held up the ring for Isabelle to see.  
  
"No, you majesty, I didn't know there was a ring in the soup." She cried out.  
  
"Do you know what we do to servants who make attempts on our lives?"  
  
"I swear, your highness, I didn't put the ring there! I have never seen it before in my life!"  
  
"We execute them."  
  
"No!" Isabelle howled with horror. She was pleased with the act she was putting on. "I didn't do it, your majesty!"  
  
The whole while she had been standing there, Prince William had been staring at her in a most uncomfortable fashion. She tried to ignore him but it was very disconcerting. He looked her up and down, down and up, and tried to look right into her eyes as if he was looking into her soul and reading her thoughts.  
  
"Wait!" he suddenly cried out. The servants who had begun to watch all turned their heads from the Queen to the Prince. He walked to Isabelle and she internally swallowed. She prayed he wouldn't know it was her. "Can't we let her off?" he said to his parents.  
  
"What?" the Queen gasped in fury. "This girl tried to kill us!"  
  
"No, she didn't." argued the Prince. "Just look at her. What reason would a simple kitchen girl have to kill us?"  
  
"None, I suppose." The Queen agreed hesitantly. "I guess we can let her off."  
  
"Really?" Isabelle's eyes lit up.  
  
"I guess. After all, her soup was delicious."  
  
"So you're letting me off?"  
  
"Go on."  
  
"Oh, thank you your majesty." She said happily. She bowed and turned to go.  
  
"But don't let me catch you sticking jewelry in our food again."  
  
"Yes ma'am." And with that Isabelle ran off to her room. Once she had left, the Prince turned back to his parents.  
  
"Why did you do that, William?" the Queen asked.  
  
"I don't know." He replied confusedly. "She seemed so familiar...as if I knew her from somewhere."  
  
He shrugged and sat back down. 


	10. A New Ball and a Close Shave

Thanks again to all of my reviewers! Last chapter was just the kick I needed.I have so many new ideas! Special thanks to:  
  
Jenny the Chica-Yes, special thanks. And special thanks again.  
  
Stargazer-Your questions will be answered in due time. You said you liked John and Charles the best. Actually, to tell you the truth, I was considering bringing them back. They were pretty cool. Lucky for you, your comment inspired me to bring them back as soon as possible. Also, how did the Robin McKinley version end? I never got to read it.  
  
And ArwenStar914-Hey, she has two more pieces of Jewelry! Of course they're going in the royal food!  
  
Also thanks to Smiley and Sakura-Chan.  
  
Oh, and after this I am putting replies to my reviewers at the bottom. Don't ask me why; I just feel like it. And read my a/n about a new story I am writing at the end of the chapter.  
  
Review this story again, it's finally chapter ten!  
  
Isabelle flopped onto her bed, worn out from the night. Not only had she gone to a ball and become acquainted with a prince, but she was also accused of trying to execute the king and Queen!  
  
She reached under her mattress and pulled out her notebook. I've neglected you, she thought tenderly as she dipped her quill in some ink and began to write.  
  
Prince William is the first actual friend I think I've ever had, apart from Angie, She wrote. When he was speaking to himself in the garden, what he said really mirrored my thoughts. Besides Angie, I think he is the only person who didn't notice my beauty and instead got to know me for me. And tonight, when the King and Queen threatened to execute me, he kept looking me over in a most peculiar way, like he knew it was me. Of course, he couldn't have. I think my disguise is too good for anyone to know that Mary Isabelle Elise and Cat-skin are the same girl. Well, I don't know how I am going to see him again. If I come out as Lady Mary the Queen might have the castle surrounded by the army and won't let me out until I say my wedding vows to poor William. Well, I must go to sleep. I have had a terribly long night and I have to get up at sunrise.  
  
*~~*  
  
"What shall be the reason?" the Queen asked her husband about the ball over breakfast. "We can't have a ball for William's birthday again, we just did that. Maybe we could have a celebration for...for..." she trailed off.  
  
"Mother, who says we have to have a reason? We're royalty, we can do what we want." William grumpily mumbled, seeing his reflection in a platter and smoothing his messy light brown hair over.  
  
"You have a point there, dear. We could just have a ball."  
  
"That's what I just said." Snapped William, obviously not a morning person. "But what makes you so sure Lady Mary will come again?"  
  
"She simply has to, dear, it's just the way it works."  
  
*~~*  
  
Isabelle listened intently to the King, Queen and William as she brought up breakfast. Even though she was supposed to be a poor kitchen maid, she was easily recognizable in her coat of many furs. She hoped they wouldn't notice it was "the kitchen maid who tried to execute them." She had considered asking for her ring back, but she didn't want to call undue attention to herself. She wondered what they did with it.  
  
"We will hold it in the same place..." the queen was tittering on about something or other. "The music will be played on the other side of the room this time, I didn't like where it was last time...and we can have guests come in at the other entrance, that one is so much more scenic...oh, William, dear, this ball will be our best one yet!"  
  
Ball? Isabelle's thoughts raced. Another one? It seemed too perfect. She could see William again, she could wear another dress...She dreamily placed a platter in front of the King and Queen as she wondered what it might be like.  
  
"We can have jesters this time...and, oh, William, you can see lovely Lady Mary again, and you can fall in love-well, she can finish falling in love with you, you're already in love with her...oh it's so romantic--"  
  
Isabelle's thoughts were ripped through by the Queen's last words. Love? Romantic? Her dream-like happiness changed to annoyance and outrage at the Queen's breezy plans for her love life. And was William in love with her?  
  
"Mother, how many times have I told you I am not in love with the girl! She is merely a friend!" She filled with relief and turned just as William looked up at her. She could feel him staring at her back as she turned to serve the others and once again and it bothered her so.  
  
She tried to ignore it as she went down the table serving the knights and other subjects of the King and Queen. She spotted John and Charles, who winked at her.  
  
"Looks like you're fattening a bit, Cat-Skin." Said John, filling a plate with meats and eggs. "I'm glad to see it."  
  
"Yes, Sir, I am." She curtseyed politely. "I'd like to thank you once more for getting me my job. I haven't been this content since before me parents died."  
  
"Wonderful. We're happy to hear it." Charles smiled warmly and dug into his greasy food. Isabelle decided that even though the two were gullible they were likable as well. She finished serving the food and went back to the kitchen.  
  
Another ball, she thought happily.  
  
*~~*  
  
The day of the ball grew near. Isabelle could tell by the sudden burst of activity in the kitchen. All of a sudden it was like a beehive; everyone bustling about in a busy manner and paying no attention to anything other than what his or her task at hand was.  
  
This was a good time for Isabelle. Eliza, the head cook, was much to busy with preparations for the ball to bother with poor old cat-skin. She was obviously stressed, but Isabelle managed to avoid her so she took her temper out on the other servants. Isabelle could come and go as she pleased and not have to worry about anything. She wrote in her little book more often, and lied in her bed thinking about what the ball would be like.  
  
From various accounts she heard she pieced together exactly what it would be like. Caputo was a much richer kingdom than Ginovia, so Isabelle had never seen the amount of lavishness put into balls like she did at this one. She watched in amazement as a five-course meal was prepared, the grand hall was adorned with silk, and the room was covered in fresh flowers that day.  
  
Isabelle was looking forward to the ball greatly. She set out her dress as silver as the moon and after doing her kitchen duties of sweeping the floor, cleaning the pots and setting the bread out to cool she slipped out to go to her room to change.  
  
But on the way there she bumped into someone.  
  
"Sorry, sir." She said meekly and continued on her way.  
  
"Wait!" called a familiar voice, and she turned quickly to see the Prince standing there looking at her quizzically. Isabelle immediately bowed. "You can get up." He said, and Isabelle timidly rose. "Aren't you the kitchen maid who my parents accused of trying to kill me?"  
  
"I didn't mean to, I swear, I--"  
  
"I'll take that as a yes."  
  
"Yes, I did, but I've never seen that ring in my life, I--"  
  
"Have we met before?"  
  
Isabelle's train of thought was interrupted. "What?"  
  
"I said, have we met before?"  
  
Isabelle tried to look confused. What she really felt was fright. She was terrified that the prince knew who she was. "No, I do not think we have."  
  
"You talk very articulately for a kitchen maid." He said, looking at her with one eyebrow raised; his hands on his hips.  
  
"I do? I didn't know." She said, sniffing a bit, trying her best to keep her wits about her. She was still fearful to the point of breaking down and giving everything away.  
  
"How long have you worked here?"  
  
"Almost two months, so it please you sir." She curtseyed.  
  
"Where did you work before that?"  
  
"No where. I wandered the woods."  
  
"Before that?"  
  
"I-I..." she thought of something as quickly as she could. She didn't expect this kind of interrogation. "I worked as a kitchen maid in...Ginovia!"  
  
"Ginvoia?"  
  
"Aye."  
  
"Do you know a Lady Mary, by chance?"  
  
Isabelle tried again to look confused. "No, I do not think I know a lady by that name."  
  
"Are you sure? You don't remember anyone?"  
  
"No." she shook her head until she was dizzy to prove her point.  
  
"All right then. Move along." He brushed past her and disappeared around a bend in the corridor. Isabelle watched him the whole way, making sure he was gone, and then slipped into her room to change.  
  
A/N-I've been trying really hard to find another fairy-tale to re-write, but I can't seem to find one that suits me.  
  
The beautiful girl searched far and wide for a story to please her. But none would do. She was about to give up hope when lo and behold, a vision came to her. A story that had been read to her as a child. Once that one came to her several others did. The land rejoiced, and the girl went on to re-write these stories.  
  
Sorry, just thought I could make it more interesting. Anyway, I found these old books I read as a kid, by this guy named Jay Williams, and they were really good. They had excellent illustrations as well. So I thought I might re-tell them.  
  
There are three: One was called The Practical Princess, about a, well, Practical Princess who is captured by an evil lord, and was about to give up hope of being saved when she realized she had practicality.  
  
Another was The Silver Whistle, about a plain girl who works for a witch who wants to marry a prince, but can't without the magical mirror of Morna, which makes anyone who looks into it beautiful.  
  
And the last was called Stupid Marco, about a cheerful but rather dumb prince who made friends wherever he went and had an infailable cure for the hiccups, but couldn't tell right from left.  
  
They were really good, so I think I'll rewrite them. If anyone likes these summaries and wants to suggest which one I write first (I can't decide) tell me! Thanks, J.S. 


	11. Isabelle Blows her Cover?

Chapter Eleven...Isabelle blows her cover...you heard me right. She blows her cover. Don't forget, responses and stuff will be at the bottom from now on!  
  
I have a friend named Devin, it's chapter eleven! (You didn't think I'd forget the good-luck rhyme, did ya?)  
  
William had been edgy all afternoon; and he couldn't figure out why. He guessed it was because of the ball that coming night. He again was stuffed into an itchy outfit that was too over the top for him, (he never liked embroidery, anyway) and his mother would pop up at frequent intervals from nowhere to scare him out of his wits, making him more nervous and to top it all off she was constantly hinting about what she wanted her grandchildren to be named.  
  
Of course, he really had no one to blame but himself for being so jittery. I just happened to be high-strung; he reassured himself, another thanks to mother for giving me that tendency. And it must have been really bad, because he snapped at two servants, and cornered a kitchen maid who he thought looked familiar.  
  
He snorted thinking about the last girl-the same who accidentally dropped the ring in that soup a few weeks back. He didn't know why she seemed so familiar. He had seen her several times, and thought--no, knew--he had seen her somewhere, but he couldn't pinpoint exactly where.  
  
He pushed it aside and managed to escape into the sanctuary garden. He sat on his usual bench, looking at his reflection in the lily pond. William pulled off his heavy crown and smoothed over his hair, which always seemed to stick up. He remembered that that was the place where he became friends with Lady Mary at his birthday ball. Throwing a leaf at a frog, he sighed and rested his head in his hand as he watched the frog jump into the water.  
  
The ball was only a few hours away, and the only reason he was going was to see Mary again. Heck, that was the reason the ball was being held in the first place, but William didn't want to get specific or anything.  
  
"William, darling!" a singsong voice called out that made William freeze.  
  
Mother, he thought.  
  
His first instinct was to run. It was a hedge maze garden, so he could hide easily, and, with any luck, make mother get lost-maybe forever, he thought happily-but he was too late. The Queen turned a bend and spotted William, who was in the act of running off.  
  
"William, dear, there you are, I've been looking all over for you! The ball's starting!" When William didn't immediately come, she put her hands on her hips and sighed dramatically. "Well, are you coming?"  
  
William grumbled something indistinguishable, stuck his hands in his pockets, and reluctantly followed his mother like a five-year-old child.  
  
*~~*  
  
Isabelle was shaking so much she could hardly finish putting on her dress. She had decided on the silvery moon one, and left her hair down her back, shining and wavy. After nodding approvingly at her reflection, she left the room.  
  
She decided, instead of waltzing in, having her name announced and being stared at by everyone, she'd slip in unnoticed.  
  
She found a back door that led to the ballroom and quietly slipped in unnoticed by anyone. When she wanted to talk to William, she could, but for the moment she decided to just talk amongst the other people.  
  
She spotted John and Charles across the room and decided to talk to him.  
  
Slipping around people in the crowd who hardly noticed her, she, after about five minutes, managed to get to the two men.  
  
"Hello, John. Hello, Charles." She got the men's' attention, and they looked up from whatever conversation they were having.  
  
"Uhh, hello." Charles said, raising his eyebrow quizzically. A long pause followed in which the two men looked completely perplexed.  
  
"Aren't you going to say something, like how I have been fattening up, or how my job is in the kitchen?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Don't you remember me?"  
  
"Cat-skin? Is that you?" John looked surprised.  
  
Suddenly Isabelle realized what she had just done. She mentally slapped herself several times and stood looking at John and Charles.  
  
"Uhh, no..."  
  
They just stared at Isabelle in total bewilderment. "Cat-skin?"  
  
Isabelle took a lock of her hair. "Uhh, who is cat-skin?"  
  
"You don't know?" Charles held the bridge of his nose between his two fingers, massaging it in a way that made Isabelle want to laugh out loud. "Cat-skin is a kitchen girl. You sound just like her."  
  
"And what you said..." John rubbed his forehead. "Are you sure you're not cat-skin, and forgot or something?"  
  
"No, I'm not some kitchen-girl!" Isabelle tried her best to sound angry. "How dare you compare me to one!"  
  
"I am sorry, Lady, but you just seem a lot like her...I am sorry." They looked very flustered and tried to fix the circumstances. "But are you sure you're not cat-skin?"  
  
"NO!!" Isabelle cried.  
  
After her little outburst, she paused for a second. Would it be so bad if I told them? She thought. After all, they were kind to me, and they should know. And they wouldn't tell. She looked left and right, making sure William or the Queen weren't in the near vicinity.  
  
"Come with me." She said. This just made John and Charles look more befuddled.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Come here." She took John's hand and led him into the garden, Charles trotting alongside the two. "Listen, John and Charles, I am going to explain everything to you, but you must promise not to tell."  
  
*~~*  
  
"So you were running from your father?" Charles and John no longer looked confused, but surprised. "Well, that's a relief. I thought I was going insane."  
  
"Me too!" John and Charles exchanged pleased glances like two little boys.  
  
"But you mustn't tell a soul!"  
  
"Oh, we won't."  
  
"We promise." Charles nodded.  
  
"We are glad you told us, though." John said solemnly. "I like knowing secret information. It's like being in a club, or something of that sort."  
  
Isabelle laughed at the two men, and the three walked back towards the ball.  
  
On their way back they bumped into another person, who seemed to be storming quickly away from the ball. Isabelle stopped to see who it was.  
  
"Lady Mary?"  
  
"William?" Isabelle turned face to face with the Prince.  
  
Special Thanks to:  
  
Stargazer-That sounds like an odd book. Bleeding? Well, it makes no sense, but maybe you'd have to read it to or something. Anyway, thanks for the review! And I was thinking of doing the practical Princess as well! (Plus everyone who reviewed said that one, too!)  
  
Beffers-I will read that book, it sounds good!  
  
Impluse_k9-Thanks for your critique! I always love compliments! I try to make the characters more 3-d and not flat. And I've started work on the Practical Princess! Well, for the books, my grandparents belonged to this book club called Parent's Press when they were only parents and my mom was a baby. Over the years they kept all those books, so whenever the grandchildren go over to the grandparent's house, they still read those books. Heck, I'm almost fifteen and I still read them! They bring back a lot of old memories, ya know?  
  
Jenny the Chica-Special Thanks again! Yes, I do like the Prince, he's growing on me too...too bad he's not real! And I'm working on the first chap of the Practical Princess!  
  
Arwen Star-Your boss's name is Marco? That's really funny! I'm working on the Practical Princess so I'll do Stupid Marco next! 


	12. The kiss, the mindless mistake and the s...

I have a split personality, or two selves, now let's go read chapter twelve! (Whew! That was a bit of a stretch!  
  
"I didn't see you." William stared quietly at Isabelle. "When did you come in?"  
  
"I tried to slip in unnoticed." She said awkwardly. "I don't like my name being announced, and having everyone look at me so."  
  
"I know how you feel." William acted slightly more introverted with Charles and John around. Isabelle caught his actions and turned to the two men.  
  
"John, Charles, do you think you could leave us alone for a while?"  
  
"Sure, cat-skin--" Charles was cut short by John's elbow coming into contact with his chest. "I mean, Isabelle--" John once again elbowed him. Charles looked annoyed. "Lady Mary." The two deeply bowed and tittered out. Isabelle turned back to William.  
  
"Cat-skin?" William asked, half-smiling.  
  
"Oh, a pet name. John is my...uncle."  
  
"Ah." William nodded, looking assured, but still with a healthy hint of skepticism in his eyes. "And Isabelle?"  
  
"My middle name. I prefer to be called that."  
  
"May I call you Isabelle?"  
  
Isabelle smiled so broadly it lit up her whole face. "Of course."  
  
*~~*  
  
"Oh, I agree, I would do the same thing in your position." Isabelle and William had linked arms, wandering through the gardens and talking of moral issues. William glanced up at the clock.  
  
"Almost midnight. You're not going to run off, are you, Lady Mary?"  
  
Isabelle looked at the clock and knew she had to get into the kitchen to make William's late supper. But all the same, she lied.  
  
"No, no, of course not." She smiled fakely, looking over at William's shadowy figure. He has a handsome figure, she thought; then shook the reflection quickly out of her head.  
  
"William!" a shrill voice called. "Where are you, pumpkin?"  
  
William immediately tensed. "Mother!" he grabbed Isabelle's hand. "Come with me."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Just do it! Come with me!" he pulled Isabelle through the hedge maze, dashing around corners and never running into a dead end. They passed a few secluded guests, who turned and looked quizzically at them, but the couple ignored them in an attempt to escape the Queen.  
  
"You know this maze well." Isabelle gasped between ragged breaths, trying to keep up with William. "You must do a lot to run away from your mother."  
  
"Yes." William replied, winded.  
  
"William?" her voice rang, shrill and incredulous, over the din of music and guests chattering. Despite all of their running, the Queen's voice was even closer now. William grabbed Isabelle's hand again and they started to run.  
  
"Hurry, this way, she's on the other side of this hedge!"  
  
Isabelle laughed wholeheartedly as she followed William, slowing, gasping for air. William seemed less sure of where he was going now, and their pace slowed as they stopped to catch their breath.  
  
"I've never been in this part of the maze before." He said in between gaining air. "I don't know where we're going. But on the good side, I think we lost mother."  
  
"William!" He had spoken too soon. The voice seemed closer than ever.  
  
"Curses!" he smiled. It almost seemed a game to him,teasing his mother. Isabelle followed him down a dark, narrow maze corridor.  
  
"Ouch!" Isabelle suddenly cried, grabbing her hand in pain.  
  
"What is it?" William skidded to a stop and ran around back to Isabelle.  
  
"A scratch from a thorn; that's all." Isabelle shrugged it off, smiling and looking into William's face, which was partly obscured by his long brown hair. William looked at the bleeding scratch on her hand concernedly, taking her hand in the gentlest manner. His touch made a little shiver go down Isabelle's spine.  
  
"You're okay?"  
  
"Yes...come on let's go!" she bolted and let William follow. When they heard the Queen, now even closer down the way, yelling for them to stop, they ran faster, and turned a corner. It was a dead end. Isabelle screamed with a little thrill, but the two had nowhere to go. They stood in the dead end and waited for their fate to come.  
  
"I know!" William had a brilliant idea pop into his head, and without forewarning, kissed Isabelle just as the Queen turned the corner.  
  
"William! There you--" She stopped short when she saw Isabelle and William kissing. "Hello Lady Mary." She said slyly. "I'll go now." She backed up, eyeing them sneakily until she rounded the corner. Isabelle looked at William with surprise. He looked back and laughed.  
  
"Hey, don't look at me like that. I killed two birds with one stone. I got rid of mother, plus that'll probably shut her up for the next month." When Isabelle didn't answer, he stopped smiling. "What?"  
  
"Nothing." Isabelle shook her head uncomfortably. "How do I get out of here?"  
  
"Uh....I think you take this corridor to the end and then keep going right."  
  
"Thank you." Isabelle turned and ran home just as the clock struck midnight.  
  
"Wait!" he called, almost sadly, as she ran off.  
  
*~~*  
  
It wasn't a horrible kiss, Isabelle wrote in her notebook. In fact, it was quite a nice one. But I think I hurt William's feelings running off like that. I don't know why I did it. Run off, I mean. But he kissed me, brazenly. The thing is, I liked it.  
  
And I think I love him.  
  
*~~*  
  
As usual, Isabelle prepared a supper of soup and bread for William. However, she seemed rather distracted, and overcooked the soup. At least Eliza isn't here to scold me, she thought, pouring the soup into a bread bowl. She absentmindedly stuck a gold necklace into the bowl to make the soup taste better.  
  
Sighing, she recalled the kiss again; then scolded herself for not paying attention. She had to remember to take the necklace out of the soup. She sat up, leaving her dream behind, and looked down at the table.  
  
The tray with the dinner was gone.  
  
Cursing, she pursued the servant with it up the stairs, but it once again was too late. Isabelle watched with recalled horror as the soup was served to William.  
  
*~~*  
  
"Mom, will you get off me about it?" William grumbled, munching angrily at his bread. "I thought this would shut you up."  
  
"-And we can have roses-white, of course-and pink-it's tradition-and we can have banners with red and purple-and we can have minstrels--"  
  
"Mom." William snapped. "Plan the wedding when there's one to be planned." William was rather amazed his mother could talk for so long without sucking in air. He took a sip of his soup. "Hey, this is really good again." He took another sip.  
  
"Maybe you should look for a ring before you kill yourself." The king grumbled.  
  
"Good idea, dad." William stuck his spoon in the soup and swirled it around. This time, instead of a ring, he brought up a necklace-gold, a fine chain. But it made him a bit annoyed. "Maybe they are trying to kill me. Summon the person who made this." He said to a nearby servant. The servant scuttled off, and pulled a frightened cat-skin into the hall.  
  
"Do you have any idea what we found in the soup you made?" the queen asked.  
  
"N-no, your majesty." The maid stuttered. "What?"  
  
"A necklace. Do you have an odd fascination with jewelry?" the Queen held up the necklace for the shivering girl to see.  
  
"No, your majesty, I have never seen that before in me life." William eyed the girl suspiciously. Her face was pale with horror; yet it seemed so damned familiar.  
  
"Do you take us for fools?" she thundered.  
  
"No-I swear, I didn't put that in the soup!" she sobbed. "Please." She got down on her knees. "Spare me, a poor kitchen girl. I didn't do a thing." Instead of looking at the queen, she eyed William. William looked back with an odd expression. She looked SO familiar-perhaps he had seen her at the ball...  
  
"No." he said simply. "Send her to the dungeon."  
  
The dirty girl let out a ferocious howl. Two guards went to drag her off, kicking and flailing, when William cried out.  
  
"Stop!" Everyone froze, including the kitchen-girl. William walked up to her and looked at her. After a few moments of horrifyingly terrifying silence, he backed up. "Never mind. Let the girl go."  
  
The kitchen-girl sighed with relief. "Thank you, you highness." She bowed. "Thank you so much. Thank you--"  
  
"Yes, yes." William waved her off impatiently. She scuttled off, exiting through the kitchen door. William walked back to his seat and sat down.  
  
"What was that all about William?" the Queen asked. "William?"  
  
But William wasn't listening. He was too busy thinking. Thinking about how odd it was that a servant-girl owned such fine gold jewelry. Thinking about how familiar the girl seemed, and how Charles called Lady Mary Cat-skin when the servant-girl's name was cat-skin as well. Thinking about how the servant girl said she had worked in Ginovia, and how Lady Mary had come from there. Thinking about the scrape-the scrape on her hand. The fresh scrape on her hand, in the same place where Lady Mary's was.  
  
Yes, yes, yes, I have finally squeaked by with a chapter twelve. But you guys know the plights of a writer. You can't write unless you're inspired. And you can't force it because then it sucks...right? But this chapter was twice as long to make up for lack of updates, so I hope you're happy! Although it reads shorter, so I don't know...  
  
Special Thanks to those who reviewed:  
  
Mystical Dreams-I know what you mean. I feel the same way about my own stories sometimes too. Especially how John and Charles reacted in chapter 11....but I suppose I was rushing and didn't try really hard. That's what I get for forcing the writing.  
  
Shrouded Spirit-You like the rhyming deally? It was hard to find a word that rhymed with twelve. (  
  
Stargazer-Actually, the William Mary thing was a coincidence. (I didn't even know there was a William Mary University.)  
  
Silverstar-Actually, it's not a version of Cinderella, or it's not meant to be. But I don't think it matters. Anyway, I am glad you like it.  
  
Also thanks to zumamoonlight.  
  
Well, I've been saving my other story, but I got too excited and posted it already. It's called practical Bedelia...go read it if you get a half a chance. It's pretty good, if I do say so myself. 


	13. The Third Ball, William's confession

Don't know much about Martin Sheen, it's now time for chapter thirteen!  
  
"One last ball, mother, that is all! And if she gets away, so be it!" William cried to his mother the next day, when she proposed holding yet another ball, hoping the elusive Lady Mary would come and this time be kept there through tactical maneuvers. (Though in saying this she had no idea what she meant.)  
  
The Queen then surprisingly left William alone, no doubt to go order wedding flowers. William needed solitude-he needed to go to his pond and reflect on the past few weeks' events.  
  
He walked without interruption to his little ruminating pond. He plopped down on the bench, pulled off his heavy crown in the customary manner, and eyed his refection in the glass-smooth water. He then propped his head in his hands and tried to piece together lady Mary's mystery.  
  
*~~*  
  
Isabelle slid through her kitchen work with a happy air. Eliza scowled at her more than once, and Isabelle just smiled back. Now that she admitted she might love William, she felt a weight off her shoulders, odd, she knew. Admitting things to herself was a load off, she thought happily.  
  
She smiled as she served John and Charles at breakfast that day. They both winked at different times to Isabelle, and she winked back. It was also a load off telling a few people your secrets, she also thought decidedly. The king was in his usual drunken morning stupor, the queen was talking about another ball to be held in a week, and the Prince was as usual staring at Isabelle with unnerving disturbance. She, for once, smiled widely back. William's expression changed, and he looked at her as if he was trying to decipher her. Isabelle was startled by this and walked back to John and Charles, who were emptying their plates.  
  
"I hear there's another ball to be held." Charles said casually, half to John and half to Isabelle.  
  
"Yes, another one. The royals are trying to find out exactly who this Lady Mary is." John stressed the Lady Mary part. Isabelle blushed guiltily and left, thought her mind was not off the ball. She was weighing the options of whether to go or not. She knew she wouldn't be able to be as comfortable around William now that she knew she loved him. She would get all goose- bumpy and shiver but sweat at the same time.  
  
But then again, she did love him. And it was another chance to see him.  
  
*~~*  
  
Isabelle had been working in the kitchens for so long she was now used to it. She never had any trouble baking, and had gotten used to the disdain of Eliza, though she did attract a bit of curious attention from servants trying to catch a glimpse of the girl who had tried to kill the Prince twice with her little pieces of gold jewelry.  
  
The third ball was to be held in two days. Isabelle sat in front of a pot of soup and considered whether she should go or not. (Probably, you're thinking right now, 'Go Isabelle! You love him! He loves you! What reason is there not to go?' but for actually experiencing it it's a lot harder to decide. Anyway, Isabelle didn't know that William loved her.)  
  
After a day of deliberation, Isabelle decided to go and make of it what she could. She would go and have a fun time with John and Charles and maybe even William. Anyway, she only had one dress left, the starry one. She nodded happily, stirring the hot thick liquid.  
  
She thought about William a second and stopped the stirring. Now that she knew she loved him things might be different. She might not be able to talk to him like she did. And she would never be able to act the same. Just thinking about it made her stomach churn. Maybe she shouldn't go. But she might hurt William's feelings if she didn't. After all, if nothing she valued her friendship with him, even if he didn't love her. It's just that things might be different, she told herself, especially after he kissed me.  
  
I'll decide later, she thought pensively, starting to stir the soup again.  
  
But what about when he almost threw me in the dungeons? That wasn't like William, in fact, it was very mean, she thought. I was highly displeased by that.  
  
But I love him.  
  
But...  
  
Oh, but, but, Isabelle scolded herself. Quit deliberating and just go.  
  
*~~*  
  
By now it was routine. Isabelle asked for the time off, snuck to her room, and changed into her starry dress, telling herself not to forget to get back to make the prince's supper. For once she wished the Prince wouldn't have his late supper but it seemed somewhat of a habit. She pulled back her hair loosely, nodded at her reflection, and left the room.  
  
The ball was in full swing by the time she got there. She decided not to sneak in incognito like last time, but to just enter, even if it meant being barraged by the Queen and other ball guests. Of course, everyone knew what the balls were being held for. For her. She breathed a breath of nervousness and entered the hall, whispering her name to the announcer.  
  
"Lady Mary of Ginovia."  
  
The room stopped. The guests froze; the musicians stopped playing. All eyes were on her. Everyone agreed she never looked more beautiful than she did in her lovely starry dress. Her breaths were short and tense. William slowly walked to her and held out his hand.  
  
"I hoped you would come." He said tenderly, as she took his outstretched palm. "Play on." He yelled to the musicians, and the music stared back up. The guests began to dance again, but still all eyes seemed to be on Isabelle. She was already nervous enough being around the man she was in love with, without everyone staring at her. She caught a glimpse of John and Charles, who both waved. She smiled back as William awkwardly guided her across the floor.  
  
The two danced for hours, but neither seemed to get tired or stop. The queen was getting impatient to talk to Isabelle and William, but they kept on dancing. William never said a word.  
  
"What's wrong?" She asked.  
  
"What? Oh, nothing."  
  
"You aren't talking at all. Are you ill?"  
  
"I suppose you're going to run away at midnight again." William said darkly, eyeing Isabelle. She felt nervous, like all the other times he had stared her down. She glanced at the clock. It was seven minutes until midnight. Guests were leaving. Few were left. Isabelle nodded in reply.  
  
"Why do you run away like that?"  
  
"I can't tell you."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"I-I just can't." Isabelle felt tears forming in her eyes. Five minutes.  
  
"Before you run off, maybe forever, I want to tell you something."  
  
"Yes?" Isabelle pushed back her tears.  
  
"Listen, my parents want me to get married more than anything. And they want me to marry you." Isabelle looked past William, immediately uncomfortable by the situation. "Wait a moment, Isabelle, hear me out." She looked at his face, but not into his eyes. She looked at his chin. "Now, I know one day I will have to get married, but I couldn't imagine marrying anyone but you." Three minutes.  
  
"William--"  
  
"Wait. Really, Isabelle, there is no one else I could stand to be with. Most girls are all giggly and all they want is to get married. I'd be a trophy husband, and I'd hate it. You're the only person I could marry- you're the only person I really love."  
  
He seemed to speak in a grumbly tone, almost like a little boy asking a girl to dance. He looked at the ground and spoke very fast, and he as well tried not to look at Isabelle.  
  
Isabelle's thoughts raced. She did love William-of that she was sure-but should she say yes? She didn't exactly love the thought of having the Queen as her mother and law-plus what if her father found out she had married the prince? Her kingdoms were already rivals to begin with. (Two minutes.) And William didn't know of her whole episode back in Ginovia with her father- she didn't want to get married keeping secrets, and she didn't want William to find out from someone else. But she didn't want to tell William. She could tell John and Charles, but for some unfathomable reason she couldn't tell William. Perhaps she wasn't ready.  
  
Her thoughts were interrupted when the clock stuck twelve. Isabelle tried to pull away from William, but he kept whirling her around the floor. Isabelle was getting tired.  
  
"I will let you go when the song ends." William said. "Please tell me of you love me or not."  
  
"Let me go." Isabella cried. The tears flooded down her cheeks. It was five past. "The ball is over. You have your supper to get to."  
  
William stopped.  
  
"How did you know about my late supper?" He asked incredulously. Isabelle took hold of the moment and ran towards the exit, but not before seeing William's face. Isabelle feared he knew.  
  
Sorry it took so long of this chapter, but you know how dry spells go!  
  
Zumamoonlight- I know it was mean when William said "Take her away!" maybe it was a bit too harsh. I made it dramatic and suspenseful at the expense of making William look bad.  
  
Shrouded Spirit-I think Bootleggers of on hiatus for a while. I'll start it up again soon.  
  
Elle-No, I am not a blonde. But, as fairy tales go, in the original cat- skin she had blonde hair. Anyway, I think Isabelle is better with blonde hair. This is what I think: Blonde hair was kind of a symbol of beauty for so long it became a cliché. Then they switched it to brown. But now I think they used brown hair too much and now THAT'S a cliché. (Not that there's anything wrong with either.) Thank you for enduring my rant.  
  
Denial-I always thought this took place in the 1500's of 1600's when they had guns.  
  
Silver Star-You don't remember John and Charles? They were the ones who originally found Isabelle and got her the job as the maid in the first place.  
  
Also thanks to Mischief, mayhem and Chaos, Blazing-moon, and naavi.  
  
And don't worry; my dry spell is over. It's almost all done; I'll post the last chapter soon! 


	14. THE CONCLUSION! AHAHAH!

Flush your head down the latrine. Fill it up with sour cream. Fourteen.  
  
Keep your mind off of it, Isabelle thought angrily as she prepared the late supper. She had hardly any time to prepare as William had kept her longer at the ball, and as a result couldn't change all the way. She just threw her cloak over her starry dress. She was growing fearful of William suspecting her. She did not want anything to happen to draw attention to herself.  
  
Look at you, she told herself, you go to a ball for one night for fun and look what you've gotten yourself into. You've fallen in love with a prince, and made whole mess of things.  
  
"I always do that." She said out loud, wiping away a tear, "I always make a mess of things." Her life back home. Her father. The balls. William. The food- "The food!" Isabelle cried. But the supper was, yet again, gone. She wanted to slap herself-with the brooch in the soup! The last treasure Angie had given her-still in the soup!  
  
Isabelle slapped herself on the forehead as she tore up the stairs to stop the servant. In vain; for she watched for a third time as the dish was served. Isabelle felt like she was beginning to repeat herself one too many times. You thought I would have learned the first time, she thought angrily, mentally slapping herself a few more times.  
  
*~~*  
  
"Mother, she obviously doesn't feel the same way. Will you please drop the subject?"  
  
William wanted to cry, to get away from his mother. He couldn't endure her constant talk of Isabelle. Didn't she understand his plight? Why would she not shut up about it? Every time her name was mentioned it was a stab to his heart.  
  
"I don't see why she ran off, William, I just don't. You're such a nice boy; I can't see why she would run off like that."  
  
"Mother! Please! Stop this!" William yelled as late supper was placed in front of him. He stared at his reflection in the soup for a moment.  
  
This is you, William thought, not good enough, not for Isabelle, not for anyone.  
  
"I just don't get it. Maybe she went to freshen up."  
  
"Mother!" William yelled, and on an impulse, threw his soup across the room. The bowl hit the wall with a terrific clatter, and fell to the floor unhurt, as the dish was tin. Soup dripped down the wall. William noticed that the bowl was not the only object made of metal in his dinner.  
  
Getting up, he walked across the hall to where he had hurled the bowl, now feeling rather sheepish for doing so. He bent down and picked up a brooch, covered with bits of vegetable and meat. He turned and ran back to the table. He slammed the piece of jewelry on the linen white tablecloth. Drops of red soup splattered it; no one noticed.  
  
"Look!" he cried, "Look at this!" he pointed at the brooch and turned back towards the kitchen, yelling at a servant. "Bring me cat-skin here, straight away!"  
  
The servant skittered away under William's booming voice. Cat-skin.cat- skin! William remembered now his suspicions. Whenever he looked at that servant-girl, she reminded him of god knows who. He couldn't place his finger on it. He turned back to face cat-skin when they had managed to drag her up.  
  
"We meet again, cat-skin." William said sharply s Cat-skin bowed, and then stood, looking rather fearful. "Did you place this in my soup?" he held up the golden brooch. Cat-skin stared at it with fear.  
  
"N-no, your majesty."  
  
"Don't lie." He said sharply. "This is the third time this has happened. Now tell me, did you put this brooch in the soup, or not?"  
  
*~~*  
  
Isabelle was at an impasse. She could either tell William everything, tell him something, or lie, but any way something had to give. She said nothing; she just stood there, silent. William came up to her, so close his nose was almost touching her.  
  
"I know you." William said slowly, "Who are you?"  
  
"No-no one of consequence, your majesty." She stuttered. "Just a simple kitchen girl."  
  
"I will ask you once again, and please tell me the truth, WHO ARE YOU?" William shouted angrily.  
  
"No one of consequence sir!" Isabelle again shouted, her voice trembling with fear and sadness.  
  
"You are just cat-skin."  
  
"Aye."  
  
"Of no consequence."  
  
"Yes, your majesty."  
  
"Alright then." William sighed a terribly sad sigh, then turned away from her. Isabelle could feel his grief, for she felt it too. On an impulse, she fell to her knees and began to sob harshly. The King and Queen looked on with confusion at the servant girl and their son. William was sobbing lightly, head in his hands, while behind him Isabelle wailed vehemently. Then Isabelle got up slowly, and turned to leave.  
  
Suddenly, William stopped crying, and turned to see the retreating figure of Isabelle.  
  
"Isabelle!" he cried. Isabelle stopped and turned automatically to the call.  
  
*~~*  
  
At that moment, William knew for sure it was her. Cat-skin, and the enigmatic Lady Mary Isabelle, were one and the same. He threw off his crown and ran towards Isabelle. Isabelle looked nervous and upset, but he could see through all of the dirt and grime that is was her.  
  
"Isabelle!" he cried again, and walked to her, then pulling at her coat. She let him do so, and it fell to the ground, revealing the starry dress Isabella had been wearing only hours before at the ball.  
  
At last, William had found her.  
  
"Isabelle!" he cried. He hugged her close. "Why did you not tell me?"  
  
"I-I don't know." Isabelle sobbed, holding William back. "I was frightened."  
  
"I am never letting you go again." William said, holding Isabelle out to look at her. Her tears ran down her cheeks, wiping away the dirt and grime. William pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the rest away.  
  
The King and Queen stood up and ran to the couple. The Queen was, of course, already planning the wedding, and the King was for once out of his drunken stupor, congratulating his son and daughter-in-law. The rest is, of course, happily ever after, Isabelle and William sitting on the stone bench in front of William's solitary pond.  
  
"William, dear, will you promise me something?" Isabelle is often heard asking her husband.  
  
"What is it?" He will ask lovingly back, stroking the baby girl in her arms.  
  
"Please never try to marry our daughter."  
  
"Of course, dearest."  
  
*~~*  
  
THE END!!! Awwwww. Was that an OK ending? I was unsure of how to end it. Anywhoo, replies to reviews.  
  
Impules_k9-I guess William "grumbled his proposal" because he was really shy.  
  
Shrouded Spirits-Sorry it took so long for the next chappie. Your review made me hungry.  
  
Eclipsa-He knew she was Isabelle. She told him to call her that in an earlier chappie, though I can't remember which one.  
  
Mischief Mayhem and Chaos-Hahaha. Reviews are better when you read along as you review.  
  
Fluffy the Teddy Bear Slayer-Thanks for the pointer. I'll try and fix that.  
  
Moonchild-Ooo! I am quite glad you like my story. I am grateful to receive praise from the author of my favorite fanfiction story.  
  
Also thanks to mooncancer, zumamoonlight, Ying, Silverstar, naavi, and kitty. You guys are great! Sorry for the awful delay! School sucks. 


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